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A young apprentice. The author’s son – who is better behaved than was the author at his age – was invited to help build this kayak paddle.
In Our Store: “Woodwright’s Workbook: Further Explorations in Traditional Woodcraft.”
From the February 2012 issue #195
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I was 3 years old and I was in toddler heaven – the dirty, dangerous, totally awesome garage. My dad had actually invited me out to the garage to help him make … something. I didn’t know what and I didn’t care. Having already broken the rear window of my dad’s pickup truck while playing with a wrench, I wasn’t usually a welcome guest in the garage.
But today was different. Today I was dad’s helper. My dad started shaping a piece of wood. Saw, then drill press, then sander. I “helped” mostly by staying out of the way, hammering on some nails my dad had started in a board. I felt like we were in there for hours, but in retrospect it couldn’t have been more than 30 minutes. I don’t think I made any progress on the nails – plastic hammers aren’t very effective – before my dad told me he was finished and to come take a look.
Hmmm. Didn’t look familiar. “What is it?”
WHACK!!!
It was a paddle … a perfect fraternity hazing paddle, scaled down for my little butt.
I remember the build process so fondly, but I do not recall the fact that just moments before being invited out to the garage, I had been misbehaving. Quite badly, I have since been told. So my parents decided to have me help make the paddle for my punishment.
I learned my lesson. So well, in fact, that the paddle was never used again. From that day forward, it just hung on the wall. Either parent merely asking, “Should I get the paddle?” always elicited my best behavior. I even tried to gift it to my younger brother once when he misbehaved. “Can Danny have the paddle now?” No dice; the paddle remained mine. Brilliant parenting, in my humble opinion.
After that experience, it should come as no surprise that I avoided woodworking for many years. Fast forward three decades. I now have children of my own. My dad has since passed away, and I have inherited his woodworking tools. I’ve gotten over my fear of the paddle, and because I can’t bear to let all those woodworking tools sit idle, I’ve started dabbling.
One day, I invited my 4-year-old son to help with a woodworking project for the first time. A paddle.
Not nearly as destructive as I had been as a child, he really is a welcome guest in the garage. And he’s much smarter and more informed than I was. He already knew about my paddle story, so he wasn’t falling for anything. He kept his distance and only took an interest when the power tools were running. (He’s a man-in-training, so that was a given.)
Well, this paddle really did take a few hours. My son completely lost interest and disappeared into the house well before I finished. When it was done and I called him out to see, he asked hesitantly, “Is that my paddle?”
“Nope. It’s mine. I need it for my kayak. Pretty cool, huh? Thanks for helping me.”
You see, my son is a good kid, and so far, he hasn’t earned the right to help build a paddle to hang on the wall. But
just in case, I’ve got the perfect piece of oak tucked away in a back corner …. PWM
Eric is a happily married father of two who lives in
Fountain Valley, Calif. To date, a garage-wall workbench and bathroom remodel are his biggest projects.
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